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Cossack Owners Club |
Motorcycles are in my blood, when my mothers waters broke my dad rode her to the
hospital on his Ural bike and sidecar. I’ve been being told “LEANNN”, hanging
over the sidecar wheel of the 1971 combo nicknamed “Smersh” for years when we’ve
been off-road. Until in recent years when I’ve graduated to driving his drunken
behind around various tracks and motorcycle rallies. One main annoyance for me
is that these events come but five times a year, this is not enough to give me
my fix and on the journey home I always find myself longing even more than usual
for the day I turn sixteen and can independently travel around, on two wheels of
course.
When the bikes in the shed and dads riding his you can
pretty much guarantee I’ll be on one of my two B.M.X’s.
I’ve been cycling since three and I rely on my bike
for travel, to and from mates’ houses. Fetching and carrying, shopping for mum
and other bits of toot to and from the lock up for dad. Racing, around our
little track in the local park and causing general mischief around the local
neighbourhood and the all important giving backies (carrying on the back stunt
pegs) to girlfriends who find it terrifying bombing through Blackheath village
in full traffic with no brakes but my shoe in the front wheel! I thoroughly
enjoy riding a bicycle but in recent months I get a terrible sinking feeling
wobbling away from traffic lights at two miles per hour as the guy on the KTM
950 blurts off into the distance. I simply need an engine between my legs and
besides other cyclists never stop to help with a mechanical problem. Perhaps the
tight shorts affect the care centre of their brains.
I
have been brought, by my lovely, caring, handsome father (that’s to help towards
repaying him) a Suzuki TSX 50, as you can see from the picture, the day I got it
my smile nearly broke my face in half! We brought this dodgy contraption off a
guy called Chip (who I’m sure many readers will be familiar with) along with a
bunch of questionable (serial numbers removed!) but never the less useful
spares. At this point I must apologise to Newman senior for not buying Martins
fizzy but after reading biker boy religiously it doesn’t sound like the ultimate
machine to start my riding career on. The condition of this very generous gift
from my dad is my GCSE results, anything less that 11 A*s to C’s and I owe my
dad an awful lot of money, succeed and the bike is mine to keep. Good to know
then that I spent hours of useful revision time composing and typing this
article! You can see where my priorities lie…
I think I am deserving of the amazing opportunity your offering because I’m not
another “kid on a ped” as some rounder, hairier bikers like to label us. I
respect the roads and traffic having had some hairy moments on a push bike. I
have adopted the motorcyclists nod and code of conduct from my father, cyclist
just give you funny looks if you nod at them! I (unlike most “young-uns”) am
prepared to listen to older riders, having been lectured by customers at my dads
old shop as they wait for him to fix their bikes I have learnt many useful
things, I realise that although some bigoted bikers are a little old school they
have a lot to teach and are only to happy to help out if you listen and keep
relatively quiet!
Doing A-level design and technology, another huge hobby being carpentering and
iron work, presents me with an amazing opportunity. Having torn around Tommy’s
farm in Wales with Newman senior as a more than capable chairman on a Rotax/Armstrong
with homebuilt trial sidecar I have been in love with such machines and have
decided to build a similar platform to bolt onto the side of my Suzuki.
Indecently do any readers know the ins and outs of the legal issues around a 50
cc motorcycle and sidecar carrying a passenger? Well ill let you know how that
project goes and how often I get stopped by police bumbling around New Cross on
such a questionable piece of engineering.
As you can probably guess I’m not yet 16, my birthday is
the 25th of
August
this leaves me 6 days of holiday left to ride ride ride! I’ve been
saving a percentage of my measly pocket money in a riding fund, however I barley
have enough to buy the new kick-start I need as the splines on the current one
are non existent. A Saturday job is out of the question as I play roller hockey,
we train all day Saturday, for the LONDON STREET WARRIORS (I had to put that in,
the boys will be ecstatic if this gets printed!) I have been seeking alternative
forms of slave labour for money but again being under 16 this is a problem, I
was even led to dig, yes dig, for hours in the baking sun on my dads allotment
in return for the aforementioned new kick-start, my back simply can’t take
anymore of this labour let alone enough to pay for CBT, licence, M.O.T, riding
gear and insurance. This is why I’ve put so much blood sweat and tears into
writing this for you. This is a lovely opportunity you are offering and why
don’t other magazines offer this?! They should! I jest I jest, I’d much rather
be writing this than doing dreaded Spanish oral revision!
My mum would just like to add that this would make her much more comfortable
about me riding, having proper gear and a well maintained bike as she is still
in dreadful denial about me riding!
My C.B.T.
So I push my bike (still
coated in mud and in the camo brown plastics from the war and peace show..) off
the back of dad's Gaz jeep in a small corner of a huge car park somewhere on the
wrong side of the Woolwich ferry. I dunno what I expected from a CBT training
company, but I’d thought about the other people, I expected much similar to
myself, “hoddies” taking their first CBT and riding home today, how wrong was
I?!
A balding man, a young
Chinese woman and my wife for the day (whose name I can’t remember, please
contact if your reading this); were all on their second CBT or taking additional
rider training. Out of place, George Smith, NEVER! The day comprised of an hour
of PPE, RST and PBM training, confused so was I, in school boy terms (aka the
rest of the dam world’s terms) Personal Protective Equipment, Rider Safety
Training and Personal Bike Maintenance. All very useful and taught in a way so
as I didn’t feel I was stuck in double physics..! The 'hands-on' part of the
course came next with laps around a painted track, practicing and perfecting U
turning from one lane to another, learning a new (and useful) emergency stopping
distance judging. Again all very useful stuff that over the last three weeks
have all come in very handy at times.
I was surprised at the pace
of Norman's teaching and it was a surreal moment as I pulled out behind him and
took to the roads of an unfamiliar area I had to do a double take, me on the
road, it was weird to say the least.
A quick mention of the kit,
I was given the Oxford Bone Dry jacket and trousers (with comedy braces) by this
wonderful publication, they fitted my long and slim 6 foot 3 perfectly. The
thermal lining was easy enough to take out when things got sweaty and I have
since ridden through a semi downpour and they are in fact bone dry bar the usual
drips down the sleeves and neck. The sparking new helmet was making my face look
like a hamster with the new sponge in the cheeks so I was wearing the old
scrambles one, but I have since worn in the new one, from box helmets, it’s a
wicked design, the visor is easy with gloves and it feels snug on my head. For
free, I'm not complaining about anything!
So I looked the part, half
felt the part and obviously rode the part as the only comments needed through my
ear wire where “get back into the centre of your lane” and “cancel your
indicator” both repeated a few times.. Sorry again Norman, old cyclist habits
die hard.. The day finished with an hour or so of road theory, some useful hints
about where to place the bike on roundabouts or junctions and the ins and outs
of some other on road situations.
The
next bit was by far the most surreal, signing my certificate and trundling off
confidently following loose instructions to the ferry terminal. The feeling of
freedom on that journey home was indescribable, I even had to pull over between
Woolwich and Greenwich to let it sink in for a bit, and here I am, a few weeks
after my 16th birthday completely in control of my travel, my own life in MY own
hands and MY own bike between MY legs, ODD. I drove home the scenic route and a
few times around Greenwich one way system hoping to see someone I knew would be
waiting at a bus stop!
As I look back on that day
now its hard to think about where my enthusiasm went, I wanted to trundle around
aimlessly all day, that has gone now, I ride with porpoise and precision. I
wonder where it went. Then I realised, it hasn’t “gone” anywhere, it has
changed, the excitement of waiting 14 years to ride off has changed to a
passion, a dependency, even a slight addiction! I can’t think how I used to sit
day in day out on a sticky bus, how people still do and their heads aren’t
exploding!
It’s probably something to
do with endorphins or dopamine’s or nerve receptors, but if you ask me doc, this
three week smile is due to 50cc, some two stroke and a bit or petrol!!
Yours
George Smith